


"How?" Is the Question Now

by NotTotallyReal



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley's snake form for a bit, Established Relationship, It's kinda critical of Aziraphale, Other, Sorry but I have OPINIONS lol, aziraphale's pov, vague sex stuff again, yeah im just straight up trash at tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27573283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTotallyReal/pseuds/NotTotallyReal
Summary: It’s so hard, knowing how much to give and how much to take. Aziraphale loves Crowley, loves him deeply, completely, so much that it scares him, but he doesn’t knowhowto love Crowley. Leave him alone and he’ll turn brittle, lavish him with attention and he’ll run away. What’s the perfect amount of love?
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	"How?" Is the Question Now

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hope you enjoy it!

For all that Crowley thinks he’s gone soft on Earth, there is still a part of Aziraphale that is hard. 

Hard like flint, cold as steel. 

Hard like his words, cold as his eyes. 

He knows it hurt, all those rejections over the years. He knew it hurt, but he did nothing. He talked himself out of telling Crowley, “Please, wait.”

Why? 

Aziraphale is supposed to show mercy and kindness to all of God’s creatures and yes, Crowley isn’t _technically_ one of God’s creatures, or maybe he is, but that doesn’t matter. There’s no good enough excuse for what he’s done, and who even knows what he’s done. Maybe Crowley knows, but Crowley doesn’t want to know and he certainly won’t tell Aziraphale. 

They couldn’t have been romantically involved back then, but Aziraphale could have been a better friend. If he had really wanted, if he had decided that Crowley was important enough, Aziraphale could have been there for him. He could have thought of some excuse, maybe “It’s just a little pet project of mine” or “I’m slowly twisting my way into his psyche to obliterate him in the future” or “If spending time with him means he won’t tempt humans, what in the world is your problem with that? I am the Guardian of the Eastern Gate and what I do on Earth is not your business.”

But Aziraphale didn’t say any of those things, didn’t even want to say them. He feared Heaven more than he feared hurting Crowley, and that’s really all it is. 

But, why is there a part of him that relished Crowley following him around with a look of wild, quiet desperation?

Why had Crowley fallen to his knees all those years ago, begging to have a taste, like he already knew that deep down, Aziraphale just wanted to take and take? Why had Crowley accepted that?

It’s blasphemy of the highest order to want this demon, pitiful at your feet, to worship you more than you worship Her.

But he wants it. Aziraphale can see it, in those lovely snake eyes, the desire, the _need_ to lose oneself in another. Aziraphale will find him again. He will put his demon back together. 

Eventually. 

Sometimes when Crowley bares his throat, Aziraphale feels this foreign, consuming desire to rip out his dear boy’s throat with his teeth, to watch the demon’s corporation become drained of Crowley. He doesn’t know why he wants this, doesn’t know what part of him does. And Aziraphale knows Crowley would let him. 

He can practically see the look of bemused shock that would come across his face. And then he’d probably _smile_ because he made Aziraphale happy. He would smile before he had to fight his way out of Hell, all because of Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale knows Crowley would let him do it, would happily let him do it, so there is no reason to try it. Yet he still wants to test this. That’s excess, that’s Greed. That’s not befitting of an angel. 

So he quickly moves away from Crowley’s neck to kiss his ribs or nip at his hips. 

But...he still wants it. 

When Aziraphale lays Crowley down, ever so gently, on any nearby flat surface and proceeds to kiss the thin line of a pout right off his lips, why is he doing that? Is it really for Crowley’s pleasure alone, or is it still Aziraphale taking, taking the groans that Crowley delivers so sweetly, taking the trembling hands and shuddering bones, tucking it all safely away to be revisited when Crowley is taking a month-long nap?

Would it be any better if Aziraphale was the one lying there as Crowley used his wandering hands and his clever tongue while Aziraphale gasped and panted beneath him? 

That would be taking even more. 

It’s so hard, knowing how much to give and how much to take. Aziraphale loves Crowley, loves him deeply, completely, so much that it scares him, but he doesn’t know _how_ to love Crowley. Leave him alone and he’ll turn brittle, lavish him with attention and he’ll run away. What’s the perfect amount of love? 

It’s easier when Crowley’s a snake. Much easier. 

There aren’t any questions. There aren’t any doubts. There’s only Crowley, a little cold, curled around him with his snout in Aziraphale’s hair. There’s only lazy, sunny afternoons with a good book, some pastries, and your demon husband gently snoring. In snake form. Wrapped around you. It’s frighteningly adorable. 

Sometimes Azirapale longs for the end of Earth, just a little bit, but he does. When Earth is gone, he and Crowley will run away to the stars like Crowley wanted to. They’ll be in their true forms, so there won’t be anything to hurt. 

Aziraphale won’t be able to hurt Crowley anymore. Instead, he’ll just love him. Love him and never ever leave him. 

But that’s a long way away. 

When they first touched, really touched, Aziraphale remembers the way Crowley fell apart from simply a kiss and an embrace. Aziraphale frowned against his hair and thought _How did I let him fall into such disarray that a touch is all it takes to undo him? He was so strong in the Garden, brave and wild and confident, and now he’s shaking against me. And I like it. I like it so much, I want him to break into little pieces beneath me so I can put him back together again._

__

_Did I make him like this? All those years ago, did some part of me know that if ever this happened, I would want him like this? So I smiled and I pouted and I kept him close enough to want and much too far away to have and I rejected him and I never helped and I was silent and I loved him._

__

_Did I love him? Did I do this?_

__

_I couldn’t have. I wouldn’t have. He would know, he wouldn’t look up at me like this if I had. He wouldn’t._

__

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment for any reason that you can think of. Also, let me know if I need more tags.
> 
> This is sort of a companion piece to another short fic/character study I wrote about Crowley. Here's the [link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27470128) if you'd like to check it out.


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